but I’m not going to give up just yet. Believe it or not, I’ve changed. When you hit rock bottom, the only way is up.
I’m not going to say it was easy. I have a lot of issues from my childhood which I’m still working through. But the best things in life are worth fighting for, and you’re always in my thoughts when times get tough. The truth is, I was an alcoholic. I tried to keep it from you, but I imagine you’ve worked it out by now. Alcohol helped blur the edges of past problems that I wasn’t able to cope with. You see, my mother didn’t protect me either. I only thank God that unlike me, you were able to keep yourself safe. I hope you can forgive me. It’s taken me a long time to forgive myself. I want, no, I need to change.
Sweetheart, I wouldn’t blame you if you grew up thinking that I didn’t care. But you couldn’t be further from the truth. I was so proud of you, but too ashamed of myself to bring you into town or pick you up from school. I couldn’t stand for your friends to see what a failure your mother was. When you drew those pictures of me – I couldn’t bear the face of the cruel, bitter woman staring back from the page.
I still have issues. I struggle with crowds and I hate being the centre of attention. I shy away from people I don’t know. All these years, I thought you were better off without me. But Tony encouraged me to get back in touch. I was terrified you wouldn’t see me, and who could blame you? But the bond between mother and daughter is not so easily broken, is it?
They say mothers and daughters are closest when daughters become mothers themselves. I dream about having a grandchild. I can even see it in my mind’s eye. I hope I’ll get to share the wonder of it all with you one day.
I love you, Roz. I always have. I’m sorry for hurting you in the past.
With all my love,
Mam xxx
I rested the letter on my lap, taking a deep breath to ease the quiver in my hand. Tears blurred my vision and my breath jerked in a sudden sob. I knew of the bond she spoke of. And as for her wanting grandchildren . . . what a fool I had been. I had an inkling of her past issues. There was a rift in her family because of something her uncle had done to her when she was young. Granny’s funeral had been a tense gathering, and we did not stay for long. At last, I understood. I wanted to tell her that even if she fell, she was still moving forward, and I would be there to help her up. But all I could do was wrap my hands around my bump and cry for the opportunities I had missed. I might never see my mother again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DYMPNA
Dympna wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt offerings hanging in the air. Her mother was not the best of cooks, but her brother had wolfed down her rubbery lasagne just the same. When they were young, the only way of knowing supper was ready was if the fire alarm was going off in the hall. It had been nice to catch up with her brother; she’d even helped him with his homework. She had matured a lot since leaving home. But now she had more important things on her mind – getting her father alone, for one.
Outside an icy gale was blowing, testing every windowpane in the house, but the radiators pumped heat into her parents’ kitchen and their house was tropically warm.
‘What are you two up to?’ Dympna’s mother, Ann, regarded them with a measure of suspicion. Up until recently, Dympna had rarely spent five minutes with her father. Now the two of them were as thick as thieves.
Dympna sat ensconced at the kitchen table, having just made them both a cup of tea. ‘Nothing,’ she replied, undoing the zip of her hoodie. Since living in her flat, she had become unaccustomed to the heat. ‘Want one?’ She raised the teapot in the air. It still sported the home-made rainbow tea cosy Dympna had knitted when she was in school.
‘I’d prefer an explanation.’ Folding her arms, Ann leaned against the fridge and stared at them. Everybody said that Dympna was the spit